


No Weddings

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Written for the DL server Bingo Card prompt-Psychic Abilities. I chose telepathy, because that seemed like one they nearly had in reality lol.Specifically in this fic, telepathy to help them evade requests in the vein of “Oh, do you think you lads could come play my wedding/bar mitzvah/graduation/house-warming party/baby shower/welcoming of our newest dog to the house/etc?”Added a bit of Poly!Queen in this because...I could lol. Set around 1978 just because.TW for mentions of alcohol consumption and drunkenness (aka the boys get a lil bit loose to deal with being at an event where all they can hear are these requests waiting to be asked in the mind of every guest that sees them walk by.) A brief moment of homophobia from a side character, but he sucks so we get him out of the way as quickly as possible and he’s only in this a bit.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18
Collections: Dork Lovers Server Challenges





	No Weddings

They had it down to a fine science, when speaking aloud. 

So much as the mention of “Oh, so do you do weddings or-”

And all of them would congregate to give their polite, but mass, “NO.” 

However, it was surprising still when they realized it didn’t need to be said aloud, only thought, and they could all not only hear that in someone else’s head, but could easily communicate with one another to ensure someone ducked into the conversation to make sure they weren’t promised to an event they would not do. 

Actual weddings were probably the absolute worst for this, and this one was no different.

“They won’t shut the fuck up about it,” Freddie whispered to John, a hand rubbing at his forehead. “Oh, do you think they’ll play if someone asks? I wonder if they’ll come to my daughter’s? Do you think, what if I ask, maybe they will-” 

He scoffed. “I can’t hear myself think!” 

“That would be why I’m on drink number...” John stared at the glass in his hand. “Something. All I know is the one server knows me now and won’t serve me, so I’ve got to dip round to the others instead.” 

“Don’t get too sloshed,” Freddie warned gently. “Because I’m planning the same, and I usually hold you up.” 

“Perhaps we could hold each other up? Or use Brian or Roger?” 

Freddie pointed across the room. 

Roger, who had already come to Freddie once to make the same complaints about the thoughts of wedding and other event requests coming in from the other guests, was leaned on Brian, who was nearly slumped against a wall. The table near them was littered with champagne flutes. 

“Oh,” John sighed. “What if we all get so drunk we simply have to leave? Then they can’t ask any of us, and we can’t hear them thinking about asking us.” 

“It’s only been an hour,” Freddie said. “And this reception is supposed to go at least another three. How would it look if we left so early?” 

John didn’t so much as blink. “I don’t care. Like we’re leaving?” 

Freddie bit back a frustrated groan, and snagged a server to exchange his now-empty flute. “At least another forty-five minutes, then we can try and escape, alright? Try and keep your wits, and get some water in between the drinks.” 

“Are you getting water in between drinks?” 

Freddie didn’t answer that, and darted through the crowd to Roger and Brian. “How are you two?” 

“People...are the worst, sometimes,” Roger said. “Isn’t that terrible? We should be good to each other; we’ve all got to live on this planet...but instead we bother people about playing at every fucking event, from a wedding to, to, to, a, a, fucking...house-warming party.” 

“Did you really get asked about playing a party like that?” Freddie laughed. 

Brian nodded. “You didn’t hear it?” 

“All I can hear are people wondering about us playing something for them, every time they so much as look our way,” Freddie replied. “It starts to meld together, after a bit. Like a hurricane of annoying requests.” 

“Someone’s dog has had puppies,” Roger mumbled. “They wonder if we’d play at an adoption party for them. I cannot, anymore, I need another drink...” 

“You are already plenty soused,” Freddie chuckled. “Get some water, that’s what I told John to do as well.” 

“But then I can only focus on what they’re wanting to ask,” Roger whined. “And any time they look at us, that’s all I can hear! It’s shit!” 

He stomped his foot, and a few people stared. 

“I’d take him outside, but if I move away from this wall,” Brian slurred. “I’ll fall over. And I’m so tall, that’s so far to fall...Freddie, would you catch me?” 

“Absolutely,” Freddie replied. “That said, how about I get us all back to our table instead, hm? That way no one can fall over.” 

He took Roger first, focusing on walking as normally as possible despite his own buzz, and Roger’s hand reaching for every server that passed by with a tray of full flutes. 

But he was settled easy enough, and was thrilled by the new bowl of rolls that had been brought to their table. 

John was even easier. He’d been a good lad, and had a glass of water when Freddie found him again. He could even walk himself to the table, and joined Roger in devouring the bread, while pondering why dinner was taking so damned long. 

Brian, on the other hand, was closer to Roger-levels of sloshed, and was the clingiest thing on two legs as a result. 

“You are...so warm!” he murmured to Freddie as he stumbled alongside him through the crowd. “And you always smell good. How do you do that?” 

“Oh my goodness,” Freddie smiled, dragging Brian with him, even as people stared. “We are in the best mood, aren’t we?” 

“I am,” Brian said cheerfully. “This is a nice wedding, except for the people who won’t shut the fuck up about wanting us to play at things for them.” 

He said it loud enough that the current throng of guests could hear, and Freddie winced at the gasps that were elicited as they passed. “Yes, but let’s not think about that right now. Dinner should be soon, and won’t that be good? Bread and meat and anything else to sop up that alcohol working on you.” 

“But you think I’m funny when I’m drunk,” Brian said. 

“A bit,” Freddie admitted. “You are very affectionate and cuddly, and that is sweet if not a bit funny, considering you normally restrain yourself in public.” 

“Eh, let ‘em look,” Brian laughed, and pulled Freddie into the last open hall before the area that held their table. It was empty, with all the guests either on one side at their tables, or the other side in the standing room portion of the hall, drinking and talking. 

Even so, the kiss Brian pulled him in for was entirely meant for the bedroom, not for a stolen moment in a rented wedding venue. 

But he couldn’t help and melt into it anyway, at least until Brian’s fingers moved down to pry at the button of his trousers. 

“Not here,” he whispered, and gently batted Brian’s hand away. “When we get back to the hotel, sure. But not here.” 

Brian pouted, and tried to pull Freddie back close by his hips. 

“You’re too drunk anyway,” Freddie giggled. “Sober up some, and we’ll see, alright?” 

Brian nodded, and let Freddie lead him back to their table. 

John and Roger had decimated the bread, and were leaned back in their chairs, looking entirely too pleased with themselves. 

“There were...at least twelve rolls in that basket,” Freddie said. 

“Right,” John smirked. “Were.” 

Freddie laughed. “Whatever. When you can’t eat dinner later, or feel sick, don’t cry to me.” 

“Oh, I will,” John said. “And you’ll let me snuggle in bed until I feel better.” 

“You know me too damned well,” Freddie sighed. “At least it’ll sober the two of you up more.” 

“And what about you?” Roger asked.

“Brian did a lovely job of sobering me up just before we got in here,” Freddie replied with a knowing smile. 

Brian beamed, looking as proud as could be. “Would have done more too, but Freddie said no.” 

“Because you’re plastered, and there was no cover to keep us from getting caught,” Freddie explained. “You can wait till the hotel.” 

“I don’t know,” Brian sighed dramatically, and leaned over to rest his head on Freddie’s shoulder. “I might not make it. Too much love to give, and no way to give it to any of you now...” 

“I’ll go in the nearest bathroom and you can give it to me,” Roger grinned. 

“Stop it,” Freddie scolded with a smile. “Honestly, we’ll all be in the hotel room later, you can wait until then.” 

Servers started out with dinner, and all seemed quiet enough for the moment. The din of inner voices pondering ‘should I/could I/can I ask them?’ had lessened, and it was almost possible to eat without feeling bombarded by the thoughts. 

Almost.

“That guy,” Brian muttered, and used his fork, still with a piece of salad on it, to point. “Wants us at his daughter’s wedding so badly he may have an actual hard-on over the idea.” 

John frowned down at his dinner. “Brian, you’ve put me off of it now. I don’t want to hear that!” 

“I’ll eat it,” Roger offered, leaning over into John’s lap to get at his plate. 

“Get out,” John scolded playfully, batting at Roger’s hand. 

“Shit,” Brian whispered as the man stood, and started for their table. 

Before the man could say a word, Brian stared him down. 

“Absolutely not.” 

The man looked puzzled, but after a moment, backed away, and went back to his seat, giving them an odd look once he was there.

“...now there’s an idea,” Roger said, a thrilled look on his face. “We preempt them! Not even a chance to ask it!” 

“That can’t possibly work every time,” Freddie said. 

“But can it work for-” John looked to his watch. “Approximately a half hour?” 

That remained to be seen, but as they took turns being the one to shoot down each new person, it seemed the answer to that was yes. 

“Why didn’t we do this earlier?” Freddie asked, as much to himself as to the lads. “I mean they’re obviously confused that we somehow know ahead of them saying anything, but even so...it’s so much better!” 

They were all smiles as they sobered up, and with fifteen minutes left, it seemed like they’d get away scot-free. 

“What’s your price?” 

The man bumped into their table as he stepped towards it, a checkbook already in his hands. 

“Sorry?” John asked. 

“Everyone has one. So what’s yours?” 

“Is he propositioning us?” Brian whispered. 

“For something, yes,” Roger hissed back.

“Perhaps you could elaborate,” Freddie said, trying to move him and his chair back as the man stood close, nearly leaned into his lap. 

“Weddings! My wife has never let me forget how I didn’t get her favorite band for our first wedding. Now, she’s decided she wants you for our do-over.” 

“Do-over?” Brian puzzled. “Like a vow renewal?” 

“Nah,” the man shook his head. “Was some bad blood. She hit my brother with a car, I cheated with her sister, she left me for the neighbor, then I took up with her cousin-” 

They exchanged glances. He was either drunk and dramatic and lying, or sober and deadly serious and truthful, and one option was significantly funnier and better than the other. 

“But we’ve decided to try again. It almost worked well the first time round, and we never did divorce, so really, it’s-” 

“A vow renewal?” Brian tried again.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” the man scoffed. “Exactly! Now, she won’t let me back to our table until I get you lads to say yes. So, what’s your price?” 

Panicked looks and thoughts were exchanged. None of them had heard him, and they had heard everyone that night. How had he slipped past? 

“We don’t do weddings, sorry,” John said, with a look on his face that made it clear he was not remotely sorry. 

“No.” 

Nervous smiles all around, but Freddie was the only one to reply. “What was that?” 

“I fucking told you, no, you can’t tell me that line of bullshit. I have been sleeping in my garden for a month because I couldn’t figure out how to get a hold of you, to hire you for this wedding-” 

“Vow renewal,” Brian interrupted, then clapped a hand over his mouth, wincing at having spoken. 

If looks could kill, the man would have been in jail for Brian’s murder. “You will do this _vow renewal ceremony_ , and I will pay whatever you ask. But you will not tell me no again, do you understand?” 

“Any rules we should know?” Roger piped up, a gleam in his eye. “For the we-vow renewal, thing.” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Any family that isn’t allowed there that we could help bounce in between performing, dress code, et cetera, et cetera,” Roger replied, ignoring everyone else as they gave him questioning and fearful glares. 

The man looked about the room, then knelt in close. “No poofters. My son claims to be one, and he isn’t invited. Not having him upset his mother with that on her special day.” 

Roger nodded. “Got it. Tell you what, can we think about it, and get back to you tonight yet with a number?” 

The man grumbled, nodded, and headed back towards the table that held the remaining pieces of cake. 

“What in the fuck are you doing?” Freddie hissed. “We don’t do weddings to begin with, and certainly not for fuckers like him.” 

“We won’t be,” Roger said. “I’ve got a plan.” 

“Am I allowed to get drunk again?” Brian muttered, dropping his face into his hands. “Legally, if he’s got a plan, I think I’m allowed to get drunk again.” 

“Yes, good,” Roger said. “But not too drunk. It can’t look like what we’re doing is an accident, or some sort of...I don’t know, random fling.” 

“I think I know the plan,” Freddie said, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Roger...the implications-” 

“I know,” Roger sighed in frustration. “But aren’t you sick of hiding? And I think we’re safe enough. This is what? A wedding of maybe two hundred people? Two hundred village fuckers ranting and raving to the local paper isn’t going to undo our career. In fact, I say we don’t even address anything from this night, should it make the papers.” 

“Yes to the first bit,” Freddie replied. “But I don’t know that this is that simple. We’re banking a lot of trust in our fans, the local press outside of this area; we’ll certainly never be invited to...oh what is his name, the executive?” 

“See!?” Roger whispered fiercely, as the table nearby peeked over at them. “You can’t even recall who made us come to this shit, so who cares? We’ve got this.” 

“Wait,” John said softly. “Is that the wife?” 

Judging by her quick and purposeful pace, and the angry look on her face, the answer seemed to be yes. 

“I told him not to come over here to you...” she grimaced. “I saw the two of you, in the hall. Did you really think you were totally invisible there?” 

Freddie and Brian blushed. 

“Anyway,” she sighed. “Look, I told him you’d been turning people away all night. I’m sorry he was so rude to you, forgive him.” 

“He did make it clear that our sort weren’t allowed at your vow renewal anyway,” Roger said. “Suppose that cat is out of the bag.” 

She frowned. “What vow renewal?” 

“He talked about you two having cheated on each other, but never divorced, and I think also someone had been hit by a car?” Brian mused. “And let us know that he’d pay us any amount to come play at the event, and that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, but that his son who is...like us, wasn’t allowed at the event.” 

She sighed again, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “He’s an idiot, and drunk. We have a daughter, who’s getting married next year, and she’s a fan. God, he said he had a surefire plan to get you to say yes, I did not fucking think he would...ugh, that man!” 

“So...you don’t mind that we’re...” Freddie started. 

“Honestly, I don’t rightly care,” she said. “Kids in love are kids in love. And in your case, kids who shouldn’t have been bothered by my husband. I really cannot apologize enough-” 

“It’s alright,” John interrupted. “Was entertaining, honestly. Couldn’t believe everything he was saying was true!” 

She laughed. “Not a word. But thank you for putting up with him. I’ll keep him contained at our table, you lads enjoy the rest of the reception.” 

“Well,” Brian stuttered. “We don’t do weddings, true. But we can attend them, and bring a gift.” 

“Not that we do that for every fan, or we’d never play a show, we’d only be at weddings,” Roger continued the thought for him. “However, I’d imagine your husband is going to make your daughter’s wedding...interesting. She could maybe use a nice surprise that day.” 

“And we would be happy to be that surprise,” Freddie added. “If your husband will let us in the door.” 

“He’ll be lucky if I don’t have him hog-tied in the back of the church,” she tutted. “Don’t you worry about that; I have final say with my daughter on who comes to the wedding, and I say if you’re willing to come as guests, we’d be happy to have you.” 

Details were exchanged, a promise of a set of invites and save the dates to be sent was made, and they were left in an odd shock. 

“How on earth,” Roger muttered. “Has a woman that kind and delightful ended up with that troll of a man?” 

“Love?” Freddie pondered.

“Money?” Brian added. 

“...Not really appropriate to bring up at a wedding,” John said, and sipped at his glass of water. 

But his thought was very clear to the three of them, and there was only so much of their giggling they could restrain as they took it as their cue to leave. 

“You know if she spreads that, we’ll be getting wedding invites every day of the week, right?” Freddie sighed as they stumbled along out of the venue, and down the road towards their shared flat. 

“We get those already,” Roger replied with a wave of his hand. “Apparently that makes up a decent portion of our fan mail. What’s a few more?” 

“She doesn’t seem likely to go telling everyone anyway,” Brian added. “And we’ll make something up if asked how we know the couple.” 

“Friends of the bride’s mum, mortal enemies of the bride’s dad,” John said. “Probably accurate. Can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees us at the wedding.” 

“It’ll be fun,” Freddie agreed. “But we’re bringing more than a toaster this time.” 

“People like toasters,” John protested. “Have you met anyone who couldn’t use one?” 

“No, but we could do a bit more than that!” 

John shook his head. “You build twelve toasters, and then your boyfriends rudely demand you get rid of them, and you do that by giving them away as gifts, and STILL-” 

He fussed, but his tone was joking and he smiled as Roger mussed his hair. 

“I think a toaster will be fine,” Roger said. “We’ll give them money too. Who can turn down a home made toaster and money?” 

“I’d say maybe only a few people,” Brian replied. “But I think you may be the first person to ever ask that question in the universe, so no one has possibly had to answer it yet.” 

“The answer is no one, Bri,” Roger smiled. “Truthfully, I think they’ll be happy just so long as we show up.” 

“And thank god we have over six months to recover from this one first,” Freddie sighed. “Less drinking at the next one, maybe?” 

That couldn’t be answered and squared away right then (and would depend on if the bride’s father would escape his wife the day of the wedding, frankly.) But the one thought set with some surety in their mind was that at least, likely thanks to the bride’s mother, it would be a wedding where they would have minimal “could you come play at” requests to fend off. 

And that alone was sure to make it an enjoyable one. 


End file.
